


Four Words

by suitesamba



Series: Four Words [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Severus in jail, Minerva dressed like the Queen, an arse obsession, a professor named Ned and sex on the rooftop.</p><p>Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. No profit is being made from this amateur work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Words

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this today after reading yet another one of those "We wake up in jail together. What's the first thing you say to me--use exactly four words" posts on Facebook.

“This is your fault.”

Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring into Severus Snape’s face. His angry face. Deep-set scowl. Black eye. 

Black eye? 

Wait—Severus Snape? 

Harry looked at Snape and squinted, realizing as he did so that for some reason, he was still wearing his glasses even though he was clearly in bed. Well, clearly _on_ a bed anyway—an uncomfortable bed with a narrow, lumpy mattress and no pillow. More like a cot actually. Severus was still wearing his black robes, though they were absurdly wrinkled. Absurd only because Severus’ robes were never wrinkled. Harry was also fairly certain that there was a large oval stain on one side of the wrinkled robes that stretched from collar to below Severus’ armpit. It was rather hard to tell. The light in the cell wasn’t too bright and…

Fuck. 

Harry sat up quickly. Mistake. Big mistake. He head pounded, his vision narrowed and he clapped his hands to the side of his head and bent forward, willing the pounding to stop. The new position, while it eased the pain in his head, did nothing for what he suddenly realized was a painful ache in his arse. 

“A hangover potion would be nice right about now,” muttered Harry. 

“Certainly. I’ll just ask that nice man in uniform over there in this _Muggle jail_ for one.” Severus stared at Harry but Harry found his menacing gaze almost calming. It grounded him. He may feel out of sorts and confused in a Muggle jail cell but Severus Snape offered a reassuring presence he could cling to. Well, perhaps _reassuring_ wasn’t quite the right word…. 

“How did we get here?” he asked. His voice sounded weak against the pounding in his head. 

“In the back of a paddy wagon,” deadpanned Severus. “With several other patrons of that lovely club you insisted we visit when not a single one of us was fit to Apparate.” 

Harry opened one eye and tilted his head up marginally to look at Severus. 

“What happened to your eye?” 

“My eye? You mean this swelling and bruising in the approximate shape and size of your fist?” 

Damn. Severus could keep the snark going indefinitely. 

“Can’t hurt more than my arse,” mumbled Harry. He might be hung over and the events of the previous night that led to their incarceration rather fuzzy, but he wasn’t about to forget what had made his arse so sore. 

“You still owe me,” said Severus smugly. 

“I owe _you_? You got to bugger the Boy Who Lived and got me thrown in jail and somehow _you_ came up short?” He looked up again just as Severus took a step closer and was eye to…well… _eye_ with Severus’ crotch. 

“Short?” retorted Severus. “I think not.” 

Harry shook his head in exasperation but got another headache for his efforts. 

“Besides, for all my trouble, I got a black eye—from you, mind you—during the brawl and in reparation you went on to vomit on my shoulder in the paddy wagon.” 

Harry pulled his head up again, this time ignoring the pounding in his temples. He stared at the stain on Severus’ robes. 

“I didn’t....” 

“You did.” Severus sounded almost smug. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry stood slowly and looked around the cell. Severus pointed to a commode in the corner. 

“Have at it,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Are we being bailed out?” asked Harry as he relieved himself, leaning heavily against the wall behind the toilet. 

“Minerva is on her way,” said Severus. 

“You called _Minerva_?” exclaimed Harry, whirling around so quickly his head spun and he lost his balance. He tripped over the commode then sagged against a wall. 

“Certainly not. How could I call Minerva? She hardly has a telephone in her quarters at Hogwarts. I called Draco’s mobile. He Floo-called Minerva.” 

This explanation in no way pacified Harry. 

“She’s going to kill me! She warned me not to let things get out of hand!” He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them, staring at Severus. “How was I to know you were such a lightweight when it came to alcohol?” Harry sank back down on the cot and dropped his head in his hands again, sighing. “Or that you were queer, available and the owner of one of the biggest cocks in the UK?” 

“You are twenty-seven years old, have taught with me at Hogwarts for three years, have known me for sixteen and were _surprised_ that I’m queer?” Severus still had his hands folded in front of him. With the black eye, stained and rumpled robes and bed head, he looked almost nothing like the Potions Master colleague Harry had slowly befriended when he came to teach at Hogwarts. The raised eyebrow simply didn’t work when it was hovering over the purple and yellow bruising around his eye. 

“Alright. Not exactly shocked at that,” admitted Harry. He looked up at Severus and gave a small smile. “The cock, though. Now _that_ was a surprise.” 

“You are given to hyperbole. It is hardly one of the largest in the UK,” said Severus off-handedly. 

“Fine. One of the largest in Scotland then.” 

Severus smirked. “Fine. Scotland it is.” 

“And Wales,” added Harry helpfully.

“And you thought my wand was my weapon of choice,” quipped Severus. 

Harry jerked his head again, fumbling in his pockets. “Wand? Fuck! Severus, my wand!” 

“It’s in lock-up,” said Severus. “They took it from you when they booked us. That brute of an officer took mine off me at the club while I was on the ground after you belted me. They seem to think I’m some sort of oddball dressed up like Merlin for Halloween.” 

Harry’s shoulders slumped with relief. He shifted on the cot and reached around to rub his lower back. The fuzziness that had clouded his brain was slowly clearing. They’d been at the Hog’s Head celebrating the fortieth birthday of Ned Foster, the Muggle Studies professor. Harry had convinced Severus to come along and he had grudgingly agreed to go for a drink or two—Foster was a former Slytherin whose father had been Head Boy when Severus was a first year. At midnight, when half of the group decided to head back to Hogwarts, Ned was still having such a good time that Harry suggested they move the party to a club he knew in London. He’d been surprised that Severus had continued on with them, and even more so when thirty minutes later he found himself on a crowded dance floor gyrating madly with him. 

And thirty minutes after that, they were wedged in a bathroom stall together. Severus managed to Apparate them both to the building’s roof from the tiny stall, and without preamble, messy drunken kissing or detours to sample his neck or bollocks or nipples, bent him over the low wall that ran around the entire roof, pulled down his jeans and pants and buried his face in Harry’s arse. 

“I love your arse,” he’d said. Harry clearly remembered that as he looked straight down, three stories, to the front of the pub where several people were gathered smoking cigarettes, their voices floating upward through the air, reaching his brain through the drunken haze of his thoughts. He remembered the tingle of the cleansing spell too, and the light touch followed by the delving, questing, thrusting tongue, the most glorious use of tongue he’d ever experienced. Severus’ hands hadn’t wavered. They’d stayed on his arse, kneading his flesh, grasping his hips, pulling his cheeks apart, then kneading the flesh again. Severus had moaned as he’d devoured him and Harry had been sure, so very certain, that Severus had dreamed about Harry’s arse long before this night. 

When he was boneless, keening his need, pressing back against the tongue that seemed as long and lean and wiry as the rest of Severus, gripping the edge of the brick ledge and staring down at the tops of the heads of the smokers, the tongue stopped and Severus leaned down over him and whispered close to his ear. 

“You want this.” 

It was not a question, yet it begged an answer. Harry ground his arse back against Severus, feeling the hard press of Severus’ cock against his bare arse. If he had to choose now between Severus’ cock up his arse or air to breathe, he’d choose the cock. The smell of Severus, like something old and rare and kept in storage, turned him on as much as the rimming had. He grunted as Severus suddenly bit his shoulder, his hazy, intoxicated brain feeling only muted pain. The tip of a wand probed inward and Severus’ non-verbal _Lubricus_ pushed warm oil into him. He stilled as the wand pushed into him further until with practiced ease it grazed his prostate and, when he nearly spasmed, nearly came, it withdrew suddenly and a hand quickly wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed tightly. A finger probed him, then two. He shook his head, grunting out. “I’m ready. Do it.” 

Severus either believed him or wanted very much to believe him. The fingers disappeared and the cock, thick-headed, sure of itself, obviously experienced, took their place, pressing inward slowly. His eyes blurred and teared up at the burn but the slow slide continued until Severus was balls deep in his arse and his knuckles were white, his fingers pressed tightly against the brickwork. 

“Hold on.” 

The words were whispered, Severus’ lips just behind his ear, then he was gone, or nearly so, grabbing Harry’s hips as he pulled out quickly and slammed back in. There was nothing gentle or slow about the act. It was rough and hard and Merlin so fucking hot. Severus angled up, let go of his hips, rested his hands beside Harry’s sides on the ledge and thrust again, nudging his prostate again and again, as white heat burned behind Harry’s eyes, as a coil of want, an expanding pool of need, centered itself around Harry’s cock and bollocks. He wanted to touch himself, just a pull, one pull would do it, but he couldn’t let go of the wall. Sweat and tears dripped off his face and fell to the ground below as Severus’ hand slipped over his cock, ran up the shaft, closed over it then slid up to the head and squeezed. 

He nearly passed out as he came, spurting into Severus’ fingers. But Severus continued to thrust into him, finally stilling at the end of a long, deep push, collapsing on him, heart beating wildly while Harry regained his breath. He was spent, exhausted, completely and irrevocably buggered by Severus Snape. Severus lifted his weight and pulled out of him, still panting, and before Harry could move he had dropped to his knees and was caressing him, sliding fingers up over the muscles of his arse again, framing it with his long fingers, sliding one lightly down his crease as that mouth finally kissed him, a needy press of lips and tongue on the dimple of his arse just above his crease. 

He helped Harry stand then, helped him adjust his pants and jeans, then took him in his arms and Apparated them into the middle of the alley behind the club. 

Into the middle of the drunken brawl. 

Which apparently led them to the Muggle jail cell. 

“You look like shit, by the way,” said Severus, still standing in front of him, back to the cell bars. 

“Great. We’re a matched pair then.” Harry’s retort lacked real emotion. 

“Hmph,” said Severus. 

“And how is this _my_ fault anyway?” he asked a moment later, recalling the words Severus had spoken when he woke up on the cot. 

Severus stared at him. Harry thought his eye looked even worse than it had fifteen minutes ago. 

“If you hadn’t waggled that arse at me and told me you were gay….”

“Told you I was gay! If you didn’t realize that after having known me for sixteen years and teaching with me for three….”

They stared at each other, identical pleased-with-themselves smiles on their faces, until Severus whirled around to face the door as the guard came by to tell them their bail had been posted. 

Minerva looked very regal in her yellow Muggle suit dress and matching hat. 

“She should have a handbag and a Corgi with that getup,” Harry heard one of the officers mutter. 

“You are paying me back every knut, Harry Potter,” Minerva said as they followed her down the busy London street, looking for a safe Apparition point. 

“Me? What about Severus?” he asked, hurrying to keep up with her quick steps while holding his still-pounding head. 

“I’m quite sure it was your arse that caused all this trouble, Harry,” she sighed as she hurried down a connector street toward an alley. 

“More like your cock,” muttered Harry to Severus. 

“Hurry up, boys.” Minerva made a right turn into the alley and they obediently followed her. 

“I shall see you back at Hogwarts,” she said. “Appalling way for the Headmaster to behave, Severus, really, even if it was all Harry’s idea.” She nodded, turned on the spot and was gone. 

“Appalling way for the Headmaster to behave, Severus, really,” said Harry in a frightfully poor imitation of Minerva’s brogue. He grinned at Severus. 

“And to think I was planning on sharing some of my hangover relief potion with you.” 

“And tea?” asked Harry hopefully. 

Severus sighed. “Fine. And tea.” 

He reached out his arm, pulled Harry against him, his hand straying down to linger a moment on Harry’s arse, and Apparated them both back to the gates of Hogwarts. 

“Really, Severus,” said Minerva, who was waiting for them. “Were you really going to let students see you with _that_ on your robes?” She waved her wand at the stain on his shoulder, then waved it at herself, handily transfiguring her yellow dress back into her severe black robes. She wiped a speck of dust off her sleeve then shook her head at them, turned, and headed through the gates and up the drive. 

“Really, Severus…” began Harry when she was out of earshot. 

Severus rolled his eyes and, shaking his head slowly, started up the drive after her. And Harry, grinning, remembering the hangover potion and the promise of tea, got his arse moving and followed him. 

_Fin_


End file.
